Hubba Hubba!
by SupernaturallyEgocentric
Summary: OK,AS PROMISED! NAKED WINCHESTERS - IN TOWELS - IN A BAR! ******* DON'T SAY I NEVER GAVE YOU NOTHING! ****** Plot thickens - or is it sickens? I'm adding some hurting and sick Sam and a few chapters of unabashed anguish and angst! Yes, I am evil! And having a LOT of fun! Warning for language and some violence.
1. Chapter 1

HUBBA HUBBA!

Crystal looked up when the door opened. "Sorry, we're clo – Holy _shit_!"

Six foot one of extremely hot naked guy (_ADONIS_) in a _tiny_ towel, gasped, "Back door!"

Crystal blinked at him. "Uh . . . "

Second hot naked guy, even _taller_ (_HOLY FREAKING HELL_) – _also_ in a very small towel – dropped to his knees with a groan.

"Back door!" ADONIS said again, urgently.

"Uh . . . " Crap, is that _blood_?

Crystal heard a cop car, complete with siren, pull up out front.

Screw the back door.

"Quick, get back here, behind the bar!"

ADONIS got HOLY FREAKING HELL up and behind the bar, both dropping to the floor just as the door opened again and two cops piled in, weapons drawn.

"Oh, thank God!" Crystal shrieked, hysteria only a little exaggerated. "That way! Out the back!" She pointed wildly toward the hall leading to the back door.

The cops ran past her and out back.

ADONIS started to get up.

Crystal waved him back down. "Not yet!" she hissed.

HOLY FREAKING HELL gave a little sigh and collapsed, tiny towel riding up on extremely muscular, and hairy, thighs.

ADONIS bent anxiously over him and Crystal averted her eyes, blushing furiously.

They really were _very_ small towels!

As expected, the cops came back through shortly. After a quick conversation (Crystal very aware of the hot naked fugitive breath on her legs) , the cops left.

Cursing herself for a fool, Crystal ran and locked both doors, front and back.

When she got back, HOLY FREAKING HELL was conscious and back on his feet, ADONIS steadying him, whispering into his ear.

"Thanks." ADONIS said, green eyes smiling warmly into hers.

"You, ah, you're welcome." With a huge effort Crystal managed to keep her eyes above his neck.

HOLY FREAKING HELL staggered a little. ADONIS grabbed him around the waist and _just_ managed to catch his towel from slipping.

Crystal _just_ managed to stop herself from being disappointed.

"Look," she offered, "I've got a bed in the room behind the bar, a cot really, your friend – "

"Brother."

"Oh. Well, your brother can lie down until it's safe to leave."

ADONIS looked down at himself and smiled wryly. "Not sure it's ever gonna be _that_ safe."

Crystal was beginning to think that beet red was going to be her permanent complexion.

"Oh, well, I, uh, I've got some clothes upstairs you can have." She started to back toward the stairs, still babbling. "Go ahead and take your brother in back. I'll go get the clothes and, uh, I think I've got some bandages, too." She turned and hotfooted it up the stairs.

"Hey, wait, what's your name?"

She stopped and peered back downstairs. "Crystal?"

ADONIS smiled again and her heart skipped a beat.

"I'm Dean. This is Sam."

As she watched, he turned back to his brother and started to lead him toward the back room.

"Um - Dean?"

He didn't turn back to her, just kept a shaky Sam moving. "Yeah?"

"Where are your clothes?"

Dean looked over his shoulder at her. His grin flashed out again.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Crystal sorted quickly through the boxes of clothing she was saving for St. Anthony's annual rummage sale, and came up with a few pairs of jeans and shirts that might work for her two fugitives.

Well. Dean, at least.

But HOLY FREAKING HELL (what was his name?) was so _tall_.She wasn't sure _any_ of these would work for him. She shook herself. Screw it. Didn't matter. They were just going to wear them long enough to get where they were going.

Which was exactly _where_?

You know, maybe they needed a lift. And HFH looked like he might need a doctor. Maybe she could help, maybe . . .

Chill, woman. Crystal took a breath. Get a grip. Like you'd stand a chance with either of them.

Besides, they're probably gay.

She let that statement stand for a heartbeat, then laughed out loud. _Yeah, right._

Giggling, she grabbed up the clothing, a few pair of shoes and some medical supplies from the hall cabinet and headed back down. Best to just get these two hotties what they needed, get them out of here and then take herself home and to bed.

Halfway down the stairs, there was a loud rap on the front door. Startled, Crystal lost her grip and dropped her armload all over the stairs.

Cops!

_Crap_!

Stomach tight, Crystal left the mess where it lay and went reluctantly to the front door, another bang on the door as she reached it making her jump.

"We're closed!" she called through the door, her voice quavering a little.

"Crystal?"

Oh no. "Mr. Watt?"

"Yes. Open the door!"

Crystal heard something behind her and turned. Her jaw dropped.

Dean looked at her, puzzled, then glanced down at himself, sighed, and adjusted his towel.

Crystal started breathing again. "It's my boss!" she hissed.

Dean looked at the door. "Does he usually come here this late?"

She shook her head vigorously. "Never."

"Huh." Dean gave her an odd smile. "Guess you better let him in."

"Crystal, open this door! It's freezing out here and I forgot my key!"

"Just a minute!"

Scowling at Dean, who for some insane reason was still here instead of running for the back, Crystal jerked her head impatiently toward the back room. Go on! she mouthed silently.

He grinned and chucked her playfully under the chin. "Hang in there, slugger," he whispered.

Surprised into an answering grin, Crystal watched him disappear into the rear until another shout from outside roused her. She pretended to fumble with the lock. "Just a minute," she called out. "The deadbolt's stuck!"

When Crystal "finally" got the door open, Mr. Watt strode angrily inside. "About damned time!" He looked around the empty bar with suspicious, beady eyes. "Did I hear you talking to someone?"

Crystal widened her eyes innocently. "No, Mr. Watt. I closed up at 2am, like always."

"Then why are you still here?"

"A drunk threw up all over the men's room," she improvised swiftly. "It took me a while to clean up."

Mr. Watt saw the pile of clothing strewn along the stairs. "What's that?"

"Oh, um, just some clothes I'm boxing up for St. Christopher's." Out of the corner of her eye, Crystal saw the door to the back room open slightly. "I was on the stairs when you knocked. I dropped them."

He picked up a roll of bandages from the floor and raised an eyebrow.

Crystal's stomach dropped. "Oh, I, uh, like to keep a roll behind the bar, in case of emergencies."

"Hmmph." The older man studied her.

"Mr. Watt, do you need something?" she asked nervously. "You're not usually here this late."

"Couldn't sleep." His gaze flicked to the back of the bar. "I've been thinking I need to replace that stove soon," he said slowly. "It's getting pretty old. Think I'll measure that space now, since I'm here." He started around the bar.

"Can't that wait until tomorrow?" Crystal hurried after him. "I was going to lock up and go home."

"Then go," he said dismissively. "I'll lock up when I'm done."

"Mr. Watt, wait -!"

Mr. Watt reached the door and shoved it open. "Ah _ha!" _With a howl, he jumped through the doorway and grabbed Dean, going for his throat.

"Get _off_ me, you fugly bastard!" Dean threw a punch which knocked the older man's head back but Mr. Watt just growled, grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him into the wall, striking his head hard and knocking him to the floor, unconscious.

His towel was nowhere in sight.

Ignoring Crystal's horrified shriek, her boss kicked Dean in the ribs, then spun and, giving her a mocking grin, stalked past her to the cot on which lay the prone, unconscious body (whoa, LEGS!) of HFH.

Mr. Watt had a _very_ nasty grin on his face. "Sam Winchester," he boomed. "As I live and breathe!"

He glanced over his shoulder at Crystal. "You've been a _very_ bad girl. You stay right there till I'm finished. We're going to have a nice, long talk."

He chuckled, voice dropping to a deep, bass growl, leaned over the unconscious man and wrapped his hands around his throat. "_Finally_." Teeth bared, he started to squeeze.

Frozen with horror, Crystal saw that Dean was starting to stir on the floor, but he was slow and groggy. No way would he be quick enough to save HFH – damn it, _Sam_.

The unconscious man's face was starting to redden. Suddenly his eyes flew open. His hands struck weakly at his would-be murderer's hands, weak gasps escaping his bluing lips.

Mr. Watt just kept squeezing, his eerie chuckling a chilling counterpoint to the madness of the scene.

Crystal stared frantically from Dean to Sam to Mr. Watt's evil sneer.

Fuck it!

Mr. Crazy Ass didn't hear her coming. He was too absorbed in choking the life out of a helpless man.

A very helpless, _very_ hot man.

"Mr. Watt!" Crystal said loudly.

Sighing, her boss started to turn around. "I _told_ you to _wait_ –"

Crystal smashed him in the face with a bottle of Jack Daniels.

_Twice_.

With a cry of pain and surprise, Mr. Watt fell to the floor. Mouth working angrily, he glared up at her. "_Bitch_!" He reached out and grabbed at her legs, snarling, trying to pull himself up.

With a repulsed cry, Crystal raised the bottle again and smashed it down on his head – once, twice, _three_ times – the bottle finally giving up the ghost and shattering into a thousand pieces.

With a groan, Mr. Watt collapsed, blood flowing down his face.

Horror struck, Crystal dropped the bottle. Eyes glued to her victim, she stumbled back and fetched up against Dean, off the floor but still wobbly.

And still no towel.

No time for that.

"Dean!" she gasped, suddenly remembering _why_ she'd assaulted her dickhead boss. "Your brother - Mr. Watt was _choking_ him!"

Dean stiffened and went quickly, if a little shakily, to Sam. She heard him murmuring softly, soothingly to the injured man. Heard the rasping reply.

Valiantly, Crystal kept her eyes _off_ Naked and Nearly Naked and firmly _on_ Mr. Almost Definitely Dead. She felt suddenly very tired.

"I am so freaking _fired_!"


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Crystal helped Dean haul the Now Definitely Dead body of Mr. Watt upstairs to the bathroom. They dumped the (yuck) corpse into the tub, then Dean shooed her out into the hall, asking her to go and check on his brother.

She figured he just wanted her out of the way for some reason (_why_ had he copped that big knife from the kitchen?) so she listened at the door for a minute. But after hearing some exceedingly nasty, icky, _wet_ sounds, Crystal decided she really didn't need any more of those sounds in her brain and hot-footed it back downstairs to check on Holy Freaking Hell, aka Sexy Sam.

Trying to be quiet in case he was sleeping, she cracked open the door to the back room and peeked inside.

"Dean?" Sam's voice sounded weak. "Is that you?"

Crystal pushed the door open further. "It's me. Dean's upstairs. I can go get him –"

"Can I –" Sam coughed, cleared his throat. "I'm - can you get me some water?"

Worried – except for his obvious yumminess His Royal Hotness wasn't looking too good - Crystal got him a glass of cool water. His hands were shaking too badly to hold it, so she held the glass to his lips and took it away when he lay back down on the cot, breathing heavily.

"Th - thanks." Face flushed, body shaking with chills, Sam still tried to smile at her.

"Are you cold?" Crystal asked. _Idiot. Of course he's cold! His gooseflesh have gooseflesh!_

Not waiting for an answer, Crystal dashed to the closet, pulled out a fleece blanket that someone in last summer's knit club had left behind, and draped it over the long form of the injured man.

"Oh. Thanks." Blinking dazedly, Sam asked, "What's your name?"

"Crystal." _Damn, his eyes are pretty._ "Crystal Padfoot."

"Cool name," Sam mumbled. "You okay?"

"Me? Sure, I'm fine," Crystal answered, surprised. "Well, maybe a _little_ freaked out," she admitted. "After all, it's not every day you kill your boss."

Sam shifted, trying to find a comfortable position on the cot. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, it wasn't your boss."

"What?" Crystal frowned. "Listen, I've known him for almost a year. And yeah, I didn't know he was a nut job before tonight, but that was definitely him."

Sam ran a shaking hand over his forehead; it came away wet with sweat. "Nah, I'm pretty sure it was a ghoul."

"A _what?"_

"A ghoul." Panting, Sam pushed off the blanket. It fell to the floor, leaving the big man clad in nothing but that blessed white towel.

"Kinda like a zombie, except smarter," he slurred. "Plus they don't just eat brains, they like the whole thing." He gave a little moan. "Man, it's _hot_ in here."

"I'm gonna go get Dean," Crystal said nervously, backing toward the door. "I think you're delirious."

"Ghouls take on the form of the last person they ate." Sam's voice came faster and faster. "Sons of bitches killed our younger brother a couple years ago." He rolled his head to look at her, eyes wide and wild. "Only thing that kills 'em is head shots or decapitation. That's why Dean took it upstairs."

"Decap –" Crystal felt her stomach give a sick little roll. _That fever must be burning his brain up. _"I'm going to go get your brother. _Now."_

Not wanting to hear one more damned word out of Mr. Yummy, Crystal turned to the door and ran smack dab into Dean. The collision almost knocked her over and, laughing, he grabbed her by the arms to steady her.

"Sorry, babe." He was wearing the jeans she'd given him and a tight blue t-shirt (_oh god he's barefoot_) and somehow looked even hotter than when he'd been wearing just the towel.

"Everything okay?" Dean grinned down at her, then looked past her at his brother and the smile dropped from his face.

"Sammy?"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Giving Crystal the last name of Padfoot in honor of Berry, the dog who played Padfoot in the Harry Potter movies. Just saw online they're looking for a new home for him. Don't you guys go running to try and adopt him, though. They've got more than a hundred apps on him already and, sorry U.S. readers, won't be sending him outside the U.K.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Dean pushed past Crystal and dropped to his knees next to the cot. He took Sam's hand in a firm grip and touched his forehead, mouth tightening at the rise in temperature. "Why the hell didn't you call me?" he snapped at her.

Crystal looked at Sam's flushed face and knew he was right. She'd been too busy drooling over the poor guy to see how sick he was getting.

"I'm sorry," she said in a small, guilty voice. "I was just coming to get you."

"Dean, don't be a dick," Sam mumbled feverishly, batting his brother's hand away. "Not her fault."

Dean huffed out an angry breath, then got hold of his temper and glanced over at Crystal -– sweet little five foot nothing of a woman who'd taken them in without a moment's hesitation – and cursed himself.

"Sorry, Crystal. It's just – " He waved a hand at Sam. "Sorry."

Uncertain, she came closer. "I've got a first-aid kit upstairs, if that would help?"

"Yeah, maybe." Dean peeked underneath Sam's towel, ignoring his brother's weak protest. "Don't worry, Sammy. You're good. Probably won't need more than a few stitches."

Sam flinched and Dean patted his arm consolingly, then looked at Crystal, green eyes dark with anger. "One of the bastards tried to take off Sammy's family jewels! Missed, but not by much."

"Oh," Crystal said, feeling a little faint. "Well – that would've been – _wow_." She shook herself, trying to focus. "So it's true? What he said about – ghouls?"

Dean looked at Sam. "Dude! You told her?"

"_No_. What?"

Dean sighed. "Never mind." He stood up. "It'll be light in a couple hours. We gotta get outta here, but I don't think you're up to any running around. Which means I'm gonna have to bring the Impala to you."

Sam shook his head. "Dean, no . . . "

"Sammy, even if we could put pants on you –" Dean took another assessing look under the towel – "you wouldn't get fifty feet before falling on your face."

Sam shook his head stubbornly, fever robbing him of all reason. "I can make it, I can –- " He tried to get up and fell back, the towel falling to the floor.

_Whoa! _ Crystal's hands flew up to cover her eyes. _Holy cats!_

Dean settled his brother firmly back onto the cot and carelessly draped the towel back over his damaged but still highly impressive parts.

Crystal, peeking through her fingers, sighed in relief, and disappointment.

"It'll take me ten minutes to get back to the bathhouse," Dean said firmly. "A minute or two to get back here. We'll get you set up in the back seat and head to Bobby's."

"But what if more of those monsters come while you're gone?" Crystal protested. "_I_ can go get your car. Or I can drive you there in my van."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean perked up at the thought that a little bit of good luck might be in the offing. "Where's it parked?"

"Not far. In front of the bookstore? Three doors down?"

"Dean, wait, the corpse," Sam said hoarsely. "We gotta take it with us. Can't dump it on her."

"Well, sure." Dean said, as if surprised that had even been a question. "Okay, sweet cheeks, after I get Sam patched up, I'll go get your van."

Blushing at the endearment, Crystal nodded, relieved.

"Where are the keys?"

"Upstairs." She paled a little, thinking about what else was upstairs.

Dean read her face easily, smiled reassuringly at her._ "_Just stay out of the bathroom."

Crystal nodded. "No worries about _that!" _ Her eyes went to Sam. He was lying still on the cot now, clearly exhausted. "I'll go get them. And the kit. And I'll try to find a robe, something loose for Sam to wear so it won't mess with his, um, his –" Unable to stop herself, she glanced back at Sam's mostly covered tasty bits.

Forcing herself to look away (_Idiot_!) she caught Dean's eye and flushed hotly at his amused expression. Mumbling something incomprehensible, even to herself, she scooted out the door, leaving Dean's muffled laughter behind her.

Five minutes later, arms full of a man's bathrobe, the keys to her V-Dub and the bar's first-aid kit, Crystal was just starting downstairs when she heard a noise.

Not a normal noise – the heater clicking on, or the comfortable sound of the fridge under the bar or the ice-making machine – everyday sounds that melt into the background.

This was a _sneaky_ noise.

Crystal hadn't had a lot of practice identifying sneaky sounds, but after tonight's hoorah her nervous system was amped up pretty high, and she had no trouble at all identifying it.

It was the creaking of the floorboards in the upstairs bathroom.

_ Oh, shit._

Crystal's heart stopped, taking her breath with it, and her ability to move. She froze where she was, one foot extended but unable to complete the next step.

Another creak.

Definitely coming from the bathroom.

And absofreakinglutely sneaky.

Every part of her wanted to scream, to call for Dean, even for Tasty Bits Sam, feverish or not. But if she did that, Creepy Crawly would know she'd heard him, would come out, would _get_ her –

Jesus, these things _ate_ people!

Taking every ounce of will she possessed, she forced her foot down to the next step.

Then the next.

She heard the bathroom door open.

At the same time she heard the door open downstairs and Dean's horrified shout.

"Crystal! Run!"


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

With a high-pitched _EEP_ - holding tight to her armload - Crystal leapt down the stairs, feeling the swipe of a hand and a sharp pain as several hairs parted company with her head.

She managed to keep on her feet, staggering a little when she got to the bottom, then Dean scooped her up and ran for the back room. She could hear footsteps thudding behind them, accompanied by low, hacking growls.

Dean burst into the back room and dumped her on the floor, spinning to slam and lock the door behind them. "Shit!"

"Dean!"

Crystal looked up from the floor to see Sam on his feet, sans towel. With what had just happened – what was _still_ happening - she couldn't care less.

Dean, apparently, could. "Dude!"

He pulled the robe out of Crystal's nerveless hands and tossed it to his swaying brother. "Dude!"

Sam looked from his brother to the robe and then clumsily pulled it on, unable to manage the tie until Dean swore and crossed over to help.

"What the hell?" Sam said, staring at the door as something pounded against it. "I thought it was dead!"

"It was - _is_!" Dean snapped. "Something else must've got in through a window."

"How many?"

"Just saw the one." Dean looked down at Crystal, still sitting stunned on the floor. He reached down to pull her up. "You?"

"I didn't even see the one." She dragged in an unsteady breath and smiled, a little wobbly. "Thanks for not letting it eat me."

"No problem." Dean looked around the kitchen, ignoring the muted growling and thuds at the door. "Don't suppose you've got a shotgun in here."

"No." Crystal reached under her shirt, pulled a pistol out of her waistband and held it out. "But I've got this." She laughed as Dean's mouth dropped open in astonishment. "I almost forgot I had it. Mr. Watt bought it for the bar a few months ago. I wasn't comfortable having it so close to me so it was still upstairs."

Dean grabbed the gun and stuck it into the front of his pants. Then he grabbed Crystal and kissed hell out of her.

Sam rolled his eyes. "_Dean_."

"Give us a sec.," Dean mumbled. Crystal had gotten over her initial astonishment and was kissing him back with a great deal of enthusiasm.

"_Dean_! Upstairs brain, dude!"

Sam's voice - and the renewed pounding on the door - broke the two apart.

Panting, adrenaline whizzing through her, Crystal watched as Dean grabbed up the van's keys from the floor and tossed them to her.

Then, pulling the gun out of his waistband, Dean grinned at the two of them. "Okay, kids, time to kick some ass and get outta here."

Crystal's eyes widened. The growling outside the door sounded like a lot more than just one monster. More than two. More than three.

Maybe ALL of them.

And all _seriously_ pissed off.

"No, don't!" She grabbed Dean's arm. "You'll be killed!"

"Nah, It'll take more than a few ghouls to kill me," Dean said cockily. He drew the hammer back on the pistol, put his hand on the doorknob.

"Damn it, no! Stop!" Crystal said desperately. "Why don't we just _leave_?"

"Well, yeah, that's the plan," Dean said patiently. "But first we gotta get out of _here_."

Giving him an exasperated look, Crystal crooked her finger at him and led the brothers toward the far end of the room, where a door hid next to a large cupboard.

"This door leads to the alley that runs behind the bar," she explained. "If we go down about half a block, it'll let us out just beyond the bookstore. And my van!"

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Dean demanded.

"Things have been moving pretty fast, sweet lips. It's a miracle my brain's working at all," she said impatiently. "Besides, we didn't need the door before. You were going out the front." She cast an apprehensive look toward the bar. "Problem is, this door is locked _and_ bolted, and I don't have the key with me."

"Where is it?"

Crystal gave him a wry smile. "Where do you think?"

"The bar?" Dean shook his head. "Sure. Where the hell else would they be?" He looked at his brother, frowned when he saw Sam staring with wide, frightened eyes toward a dark, seemingly empty, corner of the room. "You okay, Sammy?"

Sam's eyes jerked back to him. "Yeah, I'm good," he said in a clearly not-fine voice.

"We don't have time for that, Sam," Dean said sharply. "Just ignore the freaking ass hat and stick with me."

Sam nodded, fiddling nervously with the tie of his robe.

What's going on?" Crystal asked. "Are you all right?" She took a concerned step toward Sam, stopped in surprise when he flinched away from her.

Dean took Crystal's sleeve, shook his head.

Seeing the interplay, Sam flushed and straightened, ignoring the wave of dizziness that washed over him. "Dean, just shoot out the lock so we can get out of here!"

"We do that, our friends are gonna figure out what's going on," Dean warned him. "We're gonna have to move pretty damn fast."

Sam gave him his "I'm Not A Freaking Child" bitch face. "No problem."

Crystal rattled the keys. "I'll run ahead and get the van unlocked and started."

Dean started to object and Crystal cut him off. "Look, my one goal tonight is to _not_ get eaten." She reconsidered. "Well, maybe another kiss from you or Mr. Tasty Bits here would be nice, but not getting eaten comes first."

Surprised, Dean still managed to preen.

Sam choked out a laugh.

Eyes twinkling, Crystal grinned. Then the pounding at the door to the bar magnified by about a hundred and it started to shake on its hinges.

"Oh, fuck this!" Dean shot the lock out on the door and kicked it open. The three of them plunged out, Dean supporting Sam in a practiced three-legged gait and Crystal streaking ahead of them, keys at the ready.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

"Shit!" Crystal tore around the side of the alley onto the sidewalk and sprinted for the van, dark hair flying. "Shit shit _shit_!"

Behind her a volley of shots rang out, followed by a deep roar and a garbled scream.

"Oh no, no, no," she moaned, hurriedly unlocking the van and wrenching the door open. She clambered inside and started it up, then climbed in back and slid open the side door.

No sign of the boys.

Crystal jumped out, then saw Dean and Sam burst out of the alley. Sam was barely upright, his head hanging loosely. Dean's arm was round his brother's waist, dragging him along.

Crystal ran toward them, but Dean shouted, "No! Go!" He cast a wild look over his shoulder and she saw three figures boil out of the alley in hot pursuit.

"Holy _crap_!" Crystal jumped back into the van. By the time she had the van in gear, the boys were at its side. Dean tossed Sam inside and jumped in after him.

"Go!"

In a panic, Crystal shoved her foot down on the accelerator. The engine raced as the van lurched forward. For a moment she thought it would die, and them along with it. Almost crying, whispering frantic prayers under her breath, she managed to steady herself and the van and pulled sharply away from the curb and into the street.

As the van sped up, Dean started to close the back door but one of their pursuers – a _big_ man, bigger than Sam big - put on an extra burst of speed and came alongside, grabbing onto the door, and starting to pull himself inside.

"Fucker!" Teeth bared in an angry snarl, Dean stuck the muzzle of his gun against the ghoul's forehead and pulled the trigger. The big man's head exploded, blood arcing out to splash Dean and the inside of the van. Dean kicked the big man in the chest, but the creature's hands had locked onto the door and the headless body clung stubbornly to the van.

"Damn it! Get the hell _off_!" Lip curled in disgust, Dean pried the ghoul's hands off the door and the body finally slumped backward into the middle of the street.

"Oh, _man_!" Crystal moaned, fighting back a wave of nausea. The van started to slow.

"Damn it, woman, move your _ass_!" Dean roared. He slammed the door shut and locked it, wiping a sleeve across his bloody face.

Choking back a whimper, Crystal jammed her foot down on the gas again and the van accelerated, roaring down the street. "Where should I _go_?"

"Just keep driving! And slow down a little, we don't want to be stopped!"

"Jeez, Dean," Sam mumbled. "Speed up, slow down. Make up your damned mind or get up there and drive yourself."

"Smart ass." Dean gave a short laugh. "Sorry, Crystal. We're okay now. Just slow down a little."

Biting her lip,Crystal let up on the gas. When she risked a quick glance over her shoulder. Dean was leaning Sam back up against a big cushion she had in the back. Sam was dead white, eyes closed and mouth pinched tight with pain.

Crystal jerked her eyes front again and swerved just in time to miss a station wagon pulling out in front of them. The swerve and blare of the other car's horn drew another shout out of Dean.

"Hey! Are you okay to drive or not?"

"Yes! Sorry!" She drew in a deep breath, fought for calm. She flicked another quick glance back. Dean was thumbing back a lock of hair from Sam's forehead; Sam looked back up at his brother with such an expression of complete trust that despite the circumstances Crystal's heart gave a little twinge.

"You're fine," Dean said to Sam, patting him reassuringly. "Crystal, go up a few more blocks and find someplace quiet to park. I want to wait a couple minutes before we go back for the car, give those assholes a chance to settle down a little."

"Won't they be watching your car?" she asked anxiously.

Dean shook his head. "We parked a few blocks from the bathhouse and walked over."

"Okay." Insides fluttering madly, Crystal kept a nervous eye out and in a minute pulled down an quiet side street and slid into an alley next to a drycleaner.

Switching off the engine, she watched in silence as Dean grabbed up a shirt from the floor of the van and wiped off the worst of the blood and brain matter from himself and the inside of the van. Then he jumped out and cleaned off the mess that had splashed onto the outside of the van.

When he climbed back in, shutting and locking the door again, Crystal ventured a timid query. "Dean? That thing back at the bar . . . "

"Yeah."

"The police are going to think I killed him."

Dean gave a sardonic laugh. "The cops are the least of our troubles, babe."

"Why?" Crystal asked apprehensively.

"We kinda screwed you tonight, picking your bar to duck into. If the other ghouls hadn't tracked us there, it probably would've been okay. But they'll have your scent now. So if you go back . . ."

"I'm toast." Crystal said in a stricken voice.

"Yeah. Sorry." Mouth set, Dean glanced out the window, checking out the lightening sky, feeling increasingly guilty at the situation they'd unwittingly put the young woman in. "Time to get going. Switch places with me, okay? I'll drive. We'll pick up our car and you can follow us."

Crystal squeezed past him and sat down beside Sam as Dean flopped down into the driver's seat. "Where?"

Dean turned on the ignition. "Where what?"

"Follow you where?"

"A friend of ours, name of Bobby." Dean pulled out of the alley onto the secondary street and, after a minute of smooth acceleration, back onto the main street. "We can get Sammy healed up and then we'll come back and take care of these bastards." He gave her a nod of approval in the rearview mirror. "Sorry I was a dick earlier. Heat of battle. You did damn good for a civilian."

"Thanks." Crystal smiled gratefully. "Kind of impressed myself." She managed a small laugh, and if it had a slight tinge of hysteria to it, well, she thought she was entitled.

After all, freaking _monsters_?

She was starting to wish she'd heeded her Mom's advice and moved back to Eugene, taken that job at her cousin's realty office.

Sam groaned a little as Dean hit a pothole and Crystal laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, then stiffened as she heard a siren. Looking out the back window, she saw a patrol car coming up behind them, lights flashing.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Dean!" Crystal squeaked.

Dean looked in the rearview and cursed. "Fucking Winchester luck," he said bitterly.

"What is it?" Sam tried to get up but couldn't quite manage.

"Cop! Don't suppose this thing has any speed to it," Dean said to Crystal, not quite joking.

She shook her head silently, watching the flashing lights play across the van. "What are we going to do?"

Dean sighed. "Guess we're gonna pull over."

Wondering how the hell he was going to explain a nearly naked and wounded Sasquatch, any brain or blood spatter he might have missed _and_ the lack of a driver's license, he flipped on the turn signal and started to pull the van to the side of the street.

"Crystal, try to make Sam look like laundry, will you? Then get up here, quick."

Crystal looked wildly around the back of the van and found an old duvet an ex-boyfriend had given her. Faux red velvet, adorned with a very badly done painting of two black panthers mating (one of the main reasons Jack was an _ex_-boyfriend), it had been on its way to St. Anthony's for donation, but she hadn't quite mustered the nerve to inflict it on them.

She threw it over Sam and he huffed out an angry breath. "Are you kidding with this thing?"

"Hey, grumpy, at least it's clean!" Crystal retorted as she moved up front to the passenger seat. "Now hush!"

The van stopped with a jerk. "Just go along with whatever I say, okay?" Dean ordered.

"What are you going to say?" Crystal asked, a little nervous.

"No freaking clue," Dean answered, with an airy flip of his wrist.

The officer knocked on Dean's window and gestured for him to roll it down.

"Yes, officer?" Dean said, _oh_ so politely.

"Were you aware that your right tail-light is out?"

"No, sir. I wasn't." Dean glanced at Crystal. "Were _you_, sweet cheeks?" The faintest of nods and a pair of narrowed green eyes gave Crystal her cue.

"Oh, honey pot, I'm so sorry, I forgot to tell you." Crystal clapped a hand to her mouth and widened her eyes at him. "I was at Finkelstein's the other night and Binky Bauerhoff backed right into me!"

Dean glared at her. "Why didn't you tell me? Don't you know we have to report that to the insurance company?"

Crystal let a little tremor enter her voice. It wasn't too hard after the night she'd had.

"But sugar lump, I forgot! Besides, you told me if we had to report another accident to the insurance company they'd _cancel_ our _policy_. I was going to take the van over to Hard Bodies and ask Jakie to look at it."

"I'd dump this piece of crap in the river before I'd let your brother lay his hands on it," Dean roared, starting to enjoy himself. "It cost me $500 to fix the mess he made of my last car!"

"Don't you talk that way about my baby brother!" Crystal said, starting to cry. She was a little surprised at just how easy _that_ was. "He's the only brother I have left!"

"He's your _only_ brother, you moron!" Dean shouted.

"But _baaabbbbyyyy_!" Crystal started to wail, large, fat tears rolling down her face.

Through all of this, the policeman had been trying, politely, to break into the conversation. At this point, he gave up.

"Listen, buddy, just get it fixed, okay!" he said loudly and started quickly back to his car. "_Jesus_!

Dean rolled his window up and looked over at his cohort in crime, deeply impressed. "Crystal, you were freaking _awesome_!"

Crystal smiled through her tears. "I know!" She pointed to the police car, which was quickly disappearing down the street. "Now _move_ your _ass_!"

Laughing, Dean leaned over and kissed her hard on the mouth. "Whatever you say!"

**KA-BAM!**

With a shriek Crystal jumped in her seat, Dean let out a curse and Sam threw off the blanket, gasping for air. "You guys trying to suffocate me? And what the _hell_ was that noise?"

Silence descended on the car as they all stared through the windshield at the huge plume of black smoke rising in the distance.

"Oh, my _God_!" Crystal said faintly.

Sam tried to pull himself up to get a better look. At a glare from Dean, he sank back down with a long-suffering sigh. "What do you think, Dean? Bar or bathhouse?"

"Who the fuck cares!" Dean said, scowling. "Time to grab the Impala and get the hell outta Dodge!"

OOOOOOOOOO

One rubber chicken to the first one who can tell me where I got the inspiration for the scene between Dean and Crystal. For those of you who don't know, I'll let you in on it next chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

Crystal stepped back, eyes wide. "Hey, you are _not_ sticking that thing in _me_!"

Dean tried his sincere face. "Crystal, it'll just take a minute. It won't hurt that much."

"Yeah, like I haven't heard _that_ before!" she scoffed. "Forget it!" She turned and marched back to her van, parked behind the Impala. "Jerk!" she shot back over her shoulder.

Dean looked at Sam, who was sitting in the passenger side of the Impala, bare legs sticking out of the thrift store robe, watching. Dean pointed a finger at him. "Don't you say one freaking word!"

Sam raised his hands, shook his head. _Not me, bro._

Dean huffed out an impatient breath, looked at the 8-inch Bowie knife in his hand. Maybe a smaller knife would've been better, not freaked her out so bad.

Crystal came stomping back and Dean looked at her hopefully.

"The holy water was no problem. I mean, it's just water, right? It's been a long damned night and my face needed a wash anyway. And the salt was really no big deal either. I'm a salty kinda girl – margaritas, French fries – you name it, I'll salt it! _No problem!_ But sticking a _knife_ in _me? _What the hell _planet_ are you _from_?"

"Can I just explain?" Dean asked placatingly. "Please?"

Explanations were the last thing she wanted. Mainly because she was pretty sure if she let Dean start talking, he was going to be able to talk her into any damn thing he wanted. But - she hesitated, a little of her anger trickling away at the wounded, pleading look in his gorgeous (_damn it_!) green eyes.

"Oh, _crap_!" she sighed, leaning against the side of the car. "Go ahead. Explain."

Dean grinned.

Five minutes later, Dean was bandaging a small cut on her upper arm.

"You're a smooth talker, Dean Winchester," Crystal said, wincing.

Dean finished up and chucked her on the chin. "And you're a good sport."

"What would you have done if I were – one of them?" she asked curiously.

He raised an expressive eyebrow and she sighed. "Never mind. Stupid question."

"The thing is, if we'd taken you to Bobby's without testing you first, he'd have kicked our asses," Dean said bluntly. "Then he'd have tested you himself."

"Oh."

"Figured you rather I did it." He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, ignoring Sam's groan.

"Is he going to be okay with me showing up with you?" Crystal asked tentatively, this "friend" sounding a little formidable.

"Oh, sure, don't worry about Bobby. He's a good guy. You'll like him." He gave Sam a quick, sideways grin. "Just don't touch his guns."

"Dean," Sam said tiredly. He circled his index finger in a hurry-up gesture. "Can we get going?"

Dean started a smart-ass reply, stopped when he saw the sweat shining on his brother's face. "You okay, Sammy?" He leaned over, rested a hand over Sam's forehead.

"I just don't want to sit on the side of the road where every Tom, Dick and jerk-off can get a good look at us as they drive by," Sam said irritably, brushing Dean's hand away. "Can we just go?"

"Yeah, sure, bud."

Dean started to shut Sam's door but his cell rang and he dug it out of his pocket and looked at the display.

"Well, speak of the dev– " Dean stopped, looked a little guiltily at Sam. "Hey, Bobby."

At a gesture from Sam, Dean clicked the phone's speaker on. Bobby's voice echoed tinnily.

_Didn't you tell me you two were working a case in Cedar Rapids?_

"Yeah, turns out there's a nest of ghouls munching on the town. We found 'em, but Sam got hurt. We're heading your way, get him fixed up before we go back to clean them up."

_He okay?_

"Yeah, we got some antibiotics down him. They should start kicking in soon."_  
_

Sam raised his voice. "It's not too bad, Bobby."

_Good. Listen, did you two blow up a bar?_

"Huh?" Dean exchanged puzzled, and apprehensive, glances with Crystal and Sam. "No. Why?"

_Because the cops have got a warrant out for some woman who killed the owner of the bar and then blew it up. Warrant says she might be with a couple of hard cases driving a black Impala!_

"Oh, _shit_!" Crystal squawked.

_What the - who the hell was that? _

"Nobody," Dean mumbled.

_Dean!_

"Sorry." Dean shuffled his feet. "Bobby, meet Crystal. Crystal, meet Bobby."

"Uh - hi?" Crystal said nervously.

Silence.

When he finally spoke, Bobby's voice was very tight and controlled.

_So, Crystal, I'm guessing you're about 5.5, maybe 110 pounds, with long, curly brown hair and big blue eyes and you drive a yellow VW van?_

"What are you, psychic?" Crystal asked, amazed.

_No, but I saw a picture of you and your van on the news about half an hour ago. _

"Uh oh," Dean said.

_Crystal, did you kill your boss and blow up the bar?_

"Well, I, um – " she gave a nervous laugh – "I didn't blow up the bar!"

A weary sigh came through the speaker.

_Dump the van, Dean. Every cop in the six states is looking for it. And get your asses over here as quick as you can._

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Yeah, yeah, I know, said I'd have this up a couple days ago. It's not my fault, dudes! Blame Patricia Briggs! Downloaded a book of hers to my Kindle and couldn't stop reading. Damn you, Patricia!

Oh, and the scene last chapter between Dean and Crystal? Inspiration drawn loosely from the film "High Anxiety"; specifically the scene where Mel Brooks and Madeline Kahn dress up like an elderly married couple and act like total lunatics to get past airport security. Freaking hysterical!_  
_

Oh guys, you gotta hear this. Just found out on Twitter that someone just explained to Jensen what Destiel is. In the middle of a Comic-Con panel. I'm dyin' here!


	9. Chapter 9

_Shit._

Fucking Lucifer was back.

Sam wasn't saying a damned thing, but Dean knew the signs. For the last hour his brother had been shooting furtive little glances into the backseat. Not at Crystal, who was dozing, slumped against the window, but into the opposite corner.

He'd stare for a couple of minutes with a blank expression on his face. Then he'd flinch and shudder and whip his eyes back to the road ahead. Before long, he'd be peeking into the backseat again and the whole damn thing would start all over again.

Maybe a little distraction was in order.

When Sam's eyes cut to the rear again, Dean said suddenly, "How's your leg?"

"Huh?" Sam dragged his gaze away from the backseat and looked at his brother. "What?"

"Your leg," Dean repeated patiently. "How is it?"

"It's okay." Sam looked out of the corner of his eye at the backseat again. "No problem."

"Lemme see."

"Dean, I'm okay."

"Don't _make_ me pull this car over!"

Sam sighed and reluctantly pulled the robe aside, baring his bandaged thigh. Dean reached over and pulled up the edge of the bandage. "Huh."

"What?" Sam asked defensively.

"It's starting to get infected, that's what." Dean looked into the rearview at Crystal, who was now awake and staring sleepily back at him. He smiled at her, then leaned over and opened the glove box, pulling out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and some antibiotic cream.

Anticipating Dean's intent, Sam snatched the meds out of Dean's hand. "I can do it, Dean," he said grumpily. "I'm not a damned cripple." He opened his robe wider and pulled off the bandage. "We could've waited until we got to Bobby's. Damned leg's not gonna fall off!"

"Less talk, more meds," Dean said, unruffled.

Sam shot him the bird. Mouth tight, he poured a generous dollop of the peroxide over the reddening wound, hissing as it bubbled and fizzed and then spilled off his hairy, muscular thigh and onto the seat.

"Damn it, Sammy, watch out!"

"Bite me, Dean! This was your damned idea!" Sam angrily wiped away the excess liquid with the sleeve of his robe and tossed the bottle into the back seat, nearly beaning Crystal in the head.

She managed to knock it aside with a hasty swipe and it fell to the floor. "Hey, watch it!"

Sam froze, then twisted slowly around. He stared fixedly at Crystal, his face suddenly filled with a mixture of fear and rage.

Crystal shrank back in her seat. "Sam?" she faltered. "What – what's wrong?"

"You fucking_ bitch!_" he growled.

"What the – " Dean looked at him and his mouth dropped open. "Sam! Damn it, it's just -Sam!"

With a maddened bellow, Sam launched himself over the seat and landed on top of Crystal.

Crystal screamed, the sound instantly cut off as Sam's hands went around her throat and started to squeeze. "Dean!" she gurgled.

"Sam, stop!" Dean stomped hard on the brakes and yanked the Impala over to the side of the road. "Shit!" He flew out of the car and pulled the back door open, hauling back on Sam's shoulders. Growling, Sam kicked back at him, catching his brother in the mouth and sending him sprawling to the ground.

Mouth bloody, stunned, Dean staggered to his feet. "Sam!" He threw himself back into the fray. "Sam, get _off_!" Desperate, he grabbed Sam's hair and pulled, yanking him back out of the car. Sam howled with pain, his hands tightening on Crystal's throat, dragging her out of the car with him. They all crashed to the ground in a tangle of thrashing limbs, Dean trapped underneath Sam and Crystal.

A frantic kick from Crystal connected with Sam's wounded thigh. With a sharp cry, he let go of her, grabbing hold of his thigh, blood spurting through his fingers from the reopened wound. Choking and coughing, fighting to pull air through her abused throat, she crawled away from him and wiggled under the Impala, inches ahead of Sam as he propelled himself after her.

Dean grabbed the bottom of Sam's robe and pulled him back. Sam cursed, throwing off the robe and trying to wriggle underneath the car after Crystal, ignoring the gravel and rocks that dug into his naked flesh.

"Dean!" Crystal screamed hoarsely. "Dean! Help me!"

"You bitch!" Sam growled at her, grabbing her ankle. "I'll kill you for what you did to us!"

"Ow! Let go! Dean, where are you? Dean!" Desperate, Crystal kicked out at Sam, but it did no good. Eyes mad, he dragged her steadily, inexorably, out from under the car.

"Got you now, you bitch!" Sam rose, grabbed a rock from the ground and raised it over his head. "Got you now!"

"Sam, please!" Crystal cried out in despair, crossing her arms in front of her face.

Then Dean came up behind Sam and pressed a hypodermic needle into his bare ass.

Sam's eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed. Dean caught him, managed to lower him to the ground. "Shit, Sammy," Dean breathed, aghast.

Hands shaking, he pulled Sam's eyelid back. Definitely out.

Pulse fine.

Breathing fine.

Thigh torn open and bleeding. But not life-threatening, for the moment.

Dean ran a hand over his face. _Christ!_

Sure that Sam was okay, at least for the moment, he turned to Crystal.

She'd pulled herself up tight against the side of the car, hands on her throat, watching the two brothers with wide, shocked eyes.

Dean crossed to her, dropped to his knees and pulled her hands away from her throat. Bruises already forming, bad ones. She was lucky Sam hadn't crushed her throat.

"Crystal, I am so damned sorry," he said with remorse. "Can you breathe okay?"

She nodded and tried to speak. Nothing came out but a gasp. She coughed, tried again. Finally, a raspy croak emerged.

"What the _fuck_ was that?"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I gotta go along with Crystal! Where the hell did _that_ come from?

In my defense, this is TOTALLY not my fault! I had the boys and Crystal safe in the Impala, everyone relatively happy, on their way to Bobby's house. I had roast beef and biscuits all ready and waiting for them, maybe some pie, _definitely_ some tequila, and then SAM started getting snarky!

"Why are Crystal and Dean having all the fun? When do _I_ get to do something besides lay around with my tasty bits hanging out?"

Well, FINE! You asked for it, Sam!

So _this_ is what happens when you let Sam Winchester have his way.

What a drama queen!

Anyone has any complaints, please address them to samwinchesterisawhinybitch AT IAMSCREWED DOT COM 


	10. Chapter 10

Sam kept me awake ALL FREAKING NIGHT with his bitching about the last chapter!

"Lots of action," he said. "Great drama. But what about the ANGST? I am FAMOUS for my angst!"

Little shithead. He's right.

So here you go. Just a little something to keep Sam off my back while I work on the next chapter.

Next thing you know, he's going to start campaigning to be the one to ring Crystal's chimes and you just KNOW what Dean's going to have to say about THAT!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

_thrump, thrump_

Sam's head hurt.

_ thrump, thrump_

His leg hurt.

_thrump, thrump_

His _ass_ hurt.

_thrump, thrump_

His mouth tasted like day-old vomit.

_thrump, thrump_

He opened his eyes.

_thrump, thrump_

A ceiling fan turned above him.

Confused, groggy, a little frightened, his eyes tracked around the small, familiar room.

Iron walls. Ceiling fan. Mirror on the wall. Table. Jug of water.

Big door, closed.

The peephole in the door, also closed.

Oh, _God_.

He was in Bobby's panic room!

_Nonononononono!_

Why was he here? What had he done? Had he – had he –

Sam closed his eyes, trying to control his rapidly accelerating breathing; pushed down the rising sickness within him, tried to remember, remember . . .

_thrump, thrump_

Demon blood, he must have drunk demon blood, why else would Dean lock him in here again?

_No_.

A moan of desperation broke out of him.

_No_.

Oh God, _no_, not again, please, not again. I can't go through that again, I'll _die_ if I have to do that again, die, die, I'll die . . .

_thrump, thrump_

A tear ran down his cheek, then another, at the thought of the long hours and days of dreadful torment in front of him. The pain, the burning, the _burning_ -

Oh God.

Dean!

He must be so angry with Sam, so hurt and disappointed. After the last time, Sam had sworn never, never to touch that damned poison again, had promised he'd _die_ first! And here he was again, the same damn thing, same damned thing!

Dean would never forgive him. Not again. This must have been it, the final straw, the _final_ betrayal. His brother had probably already gone, left Bobby to deal with Sam; this last treachery too much for even Dean's seemingly limitless capacity for forgiveness.

He was alone now.

Sam closed his eyes, dug his teeth savagely into his lower lip, tried to pull himself together.

He could fix this. He could. He had to.

Maybe he hadn't drunk a lot, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

Maybe Dean would come back, would forgive him.

Dean . . .

Sam sat up, swaying dizzily, a little shocked that he wasn't tied down. He had to tell Bobby, remind him that he needed to secure him; he wasn't safe, he might hurt someone.

Hurt someone? Hurt someone. Had he - Did I –

Dean!

Panic-stricken, he tried to get up and a bolt of pain tore through him, his thigh sizzling with shock and insult. Choking back a cry, Sam clutched at it, staring in dumb confusion at the bandage on his thigh; rode out the jagged aftershocks trembling through him.

Once the pain subsided, he peeked a little hesitantly under the bandage and saw Dean's familiar stitch work. They were red and tender, showing unmistakable signs that they'd been stitched, torn open somehow, and then re-stitched. He sighed shakily. No wonder it hurt.

At least Dean had stitched him up before he left. That had to mean he still cared about Sam, didn't it? A little?

Maybe he would come back. Maybe Sam could still win Dean's forgiveness.

Maybe not . . .

A cold shiver of fear snaked through him. Before it could lay claim to him, Sam lay back down and grabbed the sides of the cot, hard.

He _could_ do this.

He wouldn't give in, not this time.

He'd stay here, right here.

When Bobby came, he'd remind him about the restraints. And when the withdrawal symptoms started, he wouldn't give in. He'd hold on. He'd beat this.

Trying not to think, Sam settled in to wait.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

There is no cure for an angst addiction. Once you take that first dazzling, seductive sip, it's all over!


	11. Chapter 11

Bobby turned around from the stove as Dean shuffled into the kitchen. "He okay?"

"Still sleeping when I left him," Dean replied wearily. He sat down at the table, dropped his head into his hands. Grimaced when Bobby set a bowl of soup in front of him. "I'm not really hungry."

"Did I ask if you were hungry?" Bobby's tone was acerbic, but his eyes were concerned.

"I need to get back downstairs."

"He'll survive for five minutes while you get some food into you," Bobby insisted. "Won't do you or him any good if you fall on your face."

Dean nodded reluctantly and picked up his spoon, only to lower it after a couple of mouthfuls. "How's Crystal?"

"She was fine, once I convinced her it was safe to go to sleep." Bobby sat down opposite Dean. "You got _any_ idea what happened?"

"The only thing I'm sure of is he was tripping hells bells. I don't know why he decided he had to kill her." Dean took another bite, then put it down. "Bobby, I _can't_. I've got to get back down there. I don't want him waking up alone."

"Then take that with you," Bobby instructed him. He stared at Dean sternly, waited until Dean gave in and headed back downstairs, soup bowl in hand.

Bobby shook his head. "Idjit." Sighing, he started to assemble the ingredients for cornbread. Eventually _someone_ would be hungry enough to eat it, even if it were only himself.

OOOOOO

When Dean opened the door to the panic room, Sam startled himself all the way to his feet. When his weight hit his injured thigh, he wobbled and went down, sprawling back across the cot.

With a muttered curse, Dean put the soup down on the table and went to him, but his brother lurched up and practically flung himself away from Dean, plastering his back against the wall.

"_Dean_." Adrenaline and fear closed his throat. Sam drew in a difficult breath, then a second one. Once he thought he had it nocked, he said, _almost_ calmly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

Dean kept his distance, his tone casual. "Hell, Sam, I know that. Bobby knows that. Even Crystal knows."

Sam's eyes widened. "You told _Crystal_?" His voice was thick with disbelief and shame.

Dean said cautiously, "Well, Sam, she was kinda there for it, you know?"

Sam closed his eyes and smacked his head back, once, against the wall. "_Christ._"

"Sam, it's okay. Crystal's fine, more or less. She's sleeping, upstairs."

"More or less?" Sam's brow wrinkled in a frown. "What do you mean? What's wrong with her?"

"Well, her throat's bruised pretty bad and she won't be talking too much for a couple of days. And she's a little scratched up from when she was under the car.

Sam felt like he was going crazy. _More_ crazy. "What the hell was she doing under the _car_?"

Dean was silent for a _long_ minute, then he said carefully, "She was trying to get away from you, Sam."

"From _me_." Sam looked down at his torso and legs, the raw places on his torso and thighs. They made sense now. It took a minute to adjust to the new information. "I think I remember," he said slowly. "We were in the car."

"Yes," Dean answered, relieved.

"So you put me in the panic room because I hurt _Crystal_, not because . . ."

"Why else would I - " Dean stopped, heart thudding to the floor. "No, Sam, no. Don't worry, there was no demon blood."

"Don't worry?" Sam stared at him incredulously. "'Don't _worry_?'" he repeated, a wild little chuckle in his voice. "Don't worry, Sam, you didn't drink demon blood this time, you just tried to kill an innocent woman!"

Sam started to laugh. He heard the sound of hysteria in his own voice, saw the awareness of it in Dean's face, tried to stop. Couldn't. With a choking sound, he hit his head against the wall again, this time _hard_. "Stupid!" he said hoarsely. "Stupid, stupid, _stupid_!"

Dean grabbed him, pulled him away from the wall. "Knock it off!" He guided Sam back over to the cot and forced him to sit. "Cracking your head open isn't going to help."

Rage flared in Sam's eyes, then it fizzled out and his shoulders slumped. "I'm so sick of this," he whispered. "I can't do _anything_ anymore. Getting hurt all the time. Can't even watch your back. I'm fucking useless!"

"Bullshit!" Dean snapped.

Sam flinched and stared at the floor.

In a more even tone, Dean went on. "Even at half-speed, Sammy, you're more than twice the hunter of anyone else out there."

Sam shook his head miserably. "After all I've done, all I've done to _you_ . . . "

"Uh uh." Dean shook his head firmly. "Not goin' there. You did the best you could. Maybe you didn't always make the best choices, but neither did I. You – _we_ did the best we could." He sighed, seeing in Sam's face the belief that while Dean could be forgiven, Sam himself never would be. He'd spent too many years being tortured and lied to by Lucifer. Too many years fighting their father for his own identity. Too many years believing he was a monster and a freak – a lot of that Dean's own damned fault.

"Crap." Dean sat down beside him. "_Sam_." He waited until Sam finally looked up at him, face tired and defeated.

"Brother. You went to _Hell_," Dean said gently. "You survived more than one hundred and fifty years of torture with the most demented motherfucker that ever existed. And you did it to save the world." He took Sam's hand in his, squeezed it tight. "Sam - you saved _six billion people_."

Mouth trembling, Sam stared at him, eyes full of tears and something that looked a little bit like hope.

"Sammy – could you just – " Dean had to stop, fight for control before he could go on. "Once in a while – could you please just give yourself a fucking break? _Please_?"


	12. Chapter 12

Crystal wanted to throw up. Pretty little white lights flickered at the edges of her vision and she stuffed back a whimper.

Backing away from the panic room door, barely able to feel her legs underneath her, she fumbled her way to a bench and sat down; then leaned over, putting her head between her knees. Covering her mouth with her hands, trying not to be heard, she drew in a deep shaky breath. Then another.

_Hell. _

_Lucifer._

Impossible. It _couldn't_ be real, it couldn't!

_One hundred and fifty years!_

A little choked moan escaped her. With a terrified look at the panic room door, Crystal got to her feet and quivered her way back to the stairs. With a few stops for deep breathing, a good grip on the bannister and a shitload of determination, she managed to make it up the stairs without breaking her neck.

OOOO

In his study, reading a treatise on why you should never try to catch the Red-Coated Tasmanian Devil by the tail, Bobby heard an unfamiliar sound out in the hall.

It was a sound he hadn't heard in his house in more than a decade. It was the sound of a woman crying.

Putting the book down, he went in search of Crystal and found her sitting at the bottom of the stairs, arms clutched 'round her legs, face shoved into her knees, sobbing her little heart out.

Bobby sat down next to her and patted her shoulder. "Come on, Crystal, don't cry. Everything's gonna be okay. There's no need to take on like this."

She shook her head, tried to stop her sobs. "Went downstairs –" she croaked.

"What happened?"

Crystal raised her head, her face drenched with tears. She looked forlornly into his eyes and said, voice rasping, "Dean – I - he said - he went to _Hell_!"

Bobby held out his arms and Crystal dived into them, throwing herself against his chest and burrowing in.

"Now, girl," Bobby said comfortingly, patting her back. "That was a long time ago. Dean's fine now."

Crystal froze, then pulled back and stared up at him with wide, wet eyes. "_Dean_ went to Hell, _too_?" She dissolved back into tears, collapsing against him.

"Oh, _balls_!" Bobby gathered her in and kissed the top of her head. "Don't cry, idjit. Don't cry, sweet pea."

OOOO

Dean sat Sam down at the kitchen table. He put a bowl of soup in front of him and some of the cornbread he'd found cooling on the counter.

Sam looked at the food and felt a little bit nauseous. "Dean . . ."

Dean put a fresh bowl of soup out for himself, got out the butter and put it between them. "Forget it, Sam. This is part of giving yourself a break. You haven't eaten for two days. Start out slow. You'll be fine." He crumbled a piece of cornbread into his own soup and started in.

Sam slowly picked up his own spoon and took a bite. He waited a minute to see if it would make a reappearance, then took another bite.

The two worked their way through the soup and cornbread, not talking much, happy for things to be getting back to normal; at least, as close to normal as they ever got.

When Crystal appeared at the doorway, Dean flicked a quick glance at his brother, then sent out a grin. "Hey, babe."

Sam put down his spoon.

Dean nudged his foot under the table. "Don't be rude, bitch. Say hello."

"Hi," Sam mumbled.

Crystal smiled, a tentative offering, and came on into the kitchen, holding a pad of paper and pen. She sat down at the table and tore off a sheet of paper, handing it across the table to Sam.

He picked up the paper reluctantly. "Crystal, I'm sorry, I can't tell you how sorry –"

She shook her head violently and pointed emphatically to the paper.

Sam read it.

"_I forgive you. I know you didn't mean to hurt me. _

_Please don't beat yourself up."_

When Sam finished, Dean took the paper from him, smiled at Crystal after he read it.

"I tried to _kill_ you," Sam said, confused, as if he thought she needed reminding.

Crystal nodded, scribbled, held up the paper. _Why?_

Sam thought about it, thought about it hard. She deserved an answer. Finally, he said slowly, "I think - I thought you were someone else. Someone who – hurt us pretty badly."

_Did she look like me?_

"No, it wasn't that. My head – my head's a little messed up."

Crystal put pen to paper and scribbled for a time. The boys waited. She finally slid the paper across the table and they read it together.

_Sometimes life sucks. Sometimes it sucks BIG. When it gets bad for me, I try to look at where I was a year ago and ask myself if things are better now than they were back then. They usually are. If they're not, I try to pin down what it is that sucks the most and work out how I can fix it. That way next year I don't have to have the same stupid conversation with myself._

While they'd been reading, Crystal'd been scribbling some more. She shoved another piece of paper over.

_I used to do LOTS of stupid stuff when I was younger. Then when my life turned to shit, I'd move, change cities or states, try for a fresh start. After a while, the same crap would start all over again. Took me a while to figure out that no matter how many times I moved, the one thing I couldn't leave behind was me. _

_Sometimes you just have to accept that once in a while you're gonna be a dumb ass. Accept it and move on_.

Sam stared at Crystal, startled. "I'm a dumb ass?"

She pushed another paper into his hands.

_Or a homicidal maniac. Apples and oranges._

Dean cracked up. Sam reached out his long arms and pulled Crystal around the table onto his lap, and gave her a hug. After the first startled moment, she relaxed against him and kissed him on the cheek. "It's okay," she whispered hoarsely.


	13. Chapter 13

"So do werewolves eat just the hearts and nothing else?" Crystal turned over a few more pages, then looked back up at Bobby, who shook his head.

"No, but that's generally what they go for first, when they feed. Tasty, I guess."

"Huh. I wondered if it was that thing I read, if you eat the heart of your enemy, you get his strength and courage." She frowned at the surprise on his face. "What, I read!"

"Yeah, I know you do." Bobby grinned at her, tugged on the bill of the baseball cap she wore, one of his old ones. "But no, don't think they get anything from it except a full stomach."

"_Eww_." Crystal wrinkled her nose in distaste, went back to perusing Bobby's copy of 'Miscellaneous Monsters'.

Bobby watched her read for a little while, then went ahead with what he'd been thinking about - worrying about, really."Crys, do you need to contact your family, let 'em know you're okay?"

She looked at him in surprise. "My what?"

"Your family," Bobby repeated. "Aren't they going to be worried about you after what happened in Cedar Rapids? You were all over the news that first couple of days."

"Oh." Crystal looked back down at the book. "I don't have any family."

"None?"

She shook her head, shrugged a careless shoulder. "My mom dumped me when I was a kid. I was raised in foster homes until I was fifteen. I ran away; been on my own ever since."

"That sucks."

She shrugged again. "You get used to it." She turned another page of the book and started to laugh. "Oh, come on! Really?"

"What?"

Crystal turned the book around to face him. "Someone's seen Lord of the Rings too many times! Dude, it's a freaking _Ent_!"

Bobby laughed. "Believe it or not, that's real."

"No _way_!"

"It's called a Spriggan*," Bobby explained. "Part of fairy lore. Nasty bastards."

"Holy crap!" Wide-eyed, she stared down at the picture, then back up at Bobby, who was watching her with an indulgent smile.

"You know, Bobby, now I know it's real, it's not so funny anymore."

The front door slammed.

"Damn it, Sammy, you are so freaking full of it!"

Loud footsteps came toward the study.

"Just because I don't agree with you – "

"Sam, _no one_ agrees with you!"

The two Winchesters appeared in the study door, pushing and shoving at each other.

"Bobby, tell Sam he's full of shit!" Dean cried.

"Don't put me in the middle of whatever shitstorm you two got goin'," Bobby snapped. "You get hold of Garth?"

"Yeah," Dean answered. With a final shove at his brother, he threw himself down on the couch. "He's gonna call a couple friends and head over to Cedar Rapids." He scowled discontentedly. "I don't see why we can't go back and take care of it."

"Yes, you do, dumbass," Bobby contradicted him. He watched as Sam took a seat next to Crystal and looked at the picture she was looking at, grimaced at the Spriggan.

Dean sighed exaggeratedly and recited in a singsong voice, "Because the ghouls have already had a good look at us and it would be better if someone they didn't know on sight takes them out." His voice went back to normal. "Once they've got the ghouls sorted out, Garth'll figure out a way to get you clear of it, Crystal. He's got a twisty freaking brain, won't be a problem."

Crystal nodded, but Dean noticed she didn't look as relieved as he thought she would at the prospect of getting her life back.

Feeling grumpy, Bobby went to his desk and dug around in the top drawer. He pulled out a piece of paper, handed it to Sam. "Jacob called while you were out. Wants to know if you two can give him a hand in L.A."

"What's he got?" Dean said, immediately interested.

"Vamp action, place called Les Deux Café. Some kinda nightclub."

"Whoa! Vampires? At Les Deux?" Crystal was all agog. "Les Deux is one of the big 'in' places! They won't even let you in the door unless you're one of the beautiful people." She considered the two Winchesters and snickered. "Take your towels. Shouldn't be a problem."

Sam blushed and Crystal gurgled with laughter.

"Yeah, you just _wish_ you had a piece of this sweet ass," Dean said complacently. He held up a hand, studied his nails in an affected manner. "Yep, mighty sweet."

"You done yet?" Bobby snapped. "I'd hate to interrupt your fun for somethin' so trivial as four women drained dry in the last six months." His tone was a little sharper than it needed to be. The three young people went quiet.

"Sorry, Bobby," Crystal said guiltily and the two boys nodded their agreement.

Knowing that _he_ was the dickwad, not the kids, Bobby sat down at his desk and started going over the case.

"Jacob says each of the four women were regulars at the club. He doesn't know if it's someone on the club staff or a customer, but he's sure the club is the connection."

"When does he want us out there?" Sam asked quietly.

"Yesterday," Bobby said flatly. "You're good to go?"

Sam flushed a little but nodded.

"Good."

"We'll leave in the morning," Dean said, his head getting into the hunt ahead of them, thinking of the supplies he needed to check before they headed out. "Should be there by nightfall."

"The way you drive?" Bobby scoffed. "Just make sure you get there alive." His eyes fell broodingly on Crystal and she said, hesitantly, "Bobby? It's okay if I stay? For a while?"

He was silent for a long minute, intensely aware of the three pair of eyes on him. Then he smiled and chucked her under the chin. "Promised to teach you about monsters, didn't I, idjit?"

OOOOOOOOOO

*Credit for the Spriggan goes to Disasteriffic Kaz and her new story, "Where the Weeping Willow Waits." The Spriggan is part of actual fairy lore that Kaz dug up. Love the story, really loved the Spriggan, couldn't resist sticking it in here.

Okay, now, go read her story. It's awesome!


	14. Chapter 14

Dean dumped the last of the beheaded vamps on the pile and wearily motioned Sam forward. Once his brother had doused the vamps with salt and kerosene, the elder Winchester pulled out a matchbook, lit it and tossed it onto the pile.

The bodies caught and swooshed up very satisfactorily and Dean cast a sidelong look at his brother. "Nothing like a good barbecue, eh, Sammy?"

Always obliging, Sam pretended to gag

"You get hold of Bobby?" Dean asked idly a few minutes later as they watched the bonfire.

"Yeah." Sam's tone was a little too casual. Dean glanced over at him.

"What's up?"

Sam shrugged, frowning. "I dunno. I asked him how Crystal was doing and he was – I dunno, he was kinda weird about it."

"Weird how?"

"I dunno. Just weird. Not Bobby."

Alarmed, Dean wheeled to face him. "What the hell does _that_ mean, not Bobby? You think - "

"I don't think he's possessed," Sam interrupted quickly. "Just – didn't seem like himself."

"Huh." Dean turned his attention back to the flames, considered the matter for a minute. "You think maybe Crystal is getting on his nerves? Bobby's not used to having strangers around, 'specially women."

"Could be."

Another few minutes of cogitation.

"Maybe we should find a new place for her 'til she can go back home?"

Sam nodded in agreement. "Yeah, maybe we should."

Another period of silence, each man staring into the flames, alone with his own thoughts.

"You gonna be okay with that?" Sam finally asked tentatively.

"With what?"

"Crystal leaving."

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"C'mon, Dean." Sam gave his brother a little shove. "You _like_ her."

"Well - she _is_ an excellent kisser," Dean acknowledged. "But – I don't know. Kinda don't feel like that about her anymore. Kissing her now would be like kissing my sister. If I had a sister. What about you?"

"I like Crystal," Sam admitted. "She's fun, and she's got guts. But I don't want her to die, so – " he shook his head, dark eyes a little sad. "Not touching her."

"Dude, not everyone who sleeps with you dies!"

"Name _one_," Sam challenged.

Dean thought furiously, then said triumphantly, "Alicia Majors, senior year in high school!"

"How the hell do you know she didn't die?" After about thirty seconds, Sam said waspishly, "Besides, she doesn't count."

"Why, didn't you –" At an angry glare from Sam, Dean plowed to a halt. "Oh, sorry, Sammy, thought you scr —"

Sam threw some more kerosene on the pyre and the rest of Dean's words were lost in the ensuing SWOOSH of flame.

After a few minutes, aware that his brother was watching him anxiously, Sam was starting to wish he hadn't said anything. "Don't sweat it, Dean. I'll live."

Dean shook his head sorrowfully. "Life without sex isn't much of a life, dude. You gotta let the big dog out once in a while."

Sam gaped at him. "_The big dog?"_

Dean shrugged. "Hey, I'm just sayin'."

Sam was gearing up for a _massive_ bitch face when Dean's cell phone rang. After checking the caller i.d., Dean moved away from the roaring fire to take the call. When he came back, he was all smiles.

"Garth. The ghouls are toast."

"Good," Sam said feelingly. The wound on his thigh still ached like a mother. "Bastards. "What about Crystal?"

"He pinned the murder on the owner of the bathhouse, who just happened to be the head ghoul," Dean said with satisfaction. "We'll have to cook up a story to cover where she's been the last couple weeks. Other than that, she's all set."

"Good," Sam said, relieved. He'd been feeling pretty guilty about messing up Crystal's life the way they had. Not that they'd done it on purpose, of course. Like most of their worst fuck-ups, it had been entirely by accident. Still, it was good she was going to get her life back.

"You think she's gonna want to go back?" Dean said suddenly.

Surprised, Sam said, "Why wouldn't she?"

"Well, look at the way she was chowing down on all the monster lore. She's digging it."

"She's not hunting with us," Sam said sharply. "Forget it."

"Hey, I never said anything about her hunting with us!" Dean protested.

"Well, don't! I don't want you putting it in her head. Hunting with us is the only thing that'll get her torn up faster than sleeping with me." Sam's expression was grim. "Let's just get her the hell home before we get her killed."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Home again, home again.

They pulled into the scrapyard just before 10pm. The house was dark.

"What the hell!" Dean said in surprise. "They asleep already? I can see Bobby going to bed early, he's getting a little long in the tooth, but Crystal?"

"Maybe she's gone. Maybe that's why Bobby sounded so off on the phone."

Dean looked at Sam uncertainly. "She wouldn't do that without saying good-bye. Would she?"

Sam huffed out an uneasy breath. "We're not gonna find out sitting in the car. Let's go in, get something to eat. We'll find out in the morning."

Leaving their gear in the trunk, they trooped into the house, heading straight for the kitchen. Sam pulled some leftovers out of the fridge and the two brothers ate quickly, not even bothering to heat the food up.

After a cursory clean-up, they headed upstairs, feet heavy with exhaustion.

The door to Crystal's room was open. They peeked in cautiously, but the bed was empty.

"Guess that answers that question," Sam said flatly.

Dean didn't answer. Feeling sad and disappointed, he continued along the hall to their room, Sam following.

As they passed Bobby's room, a low, guttural moan caught their attention. They stopped, staring at each other in alarm.

Another moan and a low, choking cry.

Sam started for the door. Dean caught his arm, holding a finger across his lips. He pulled out his gun. Mouth tight, Sam did the same.

_One - Two - Three!_

Sam kicked the door open. The brothers plunged inside.

Crystal shrieked and dove under the covers.

"Oh, shit!" Sam dropped his gun.

"My eyes!" Dean wailed, clawing at his beautiful green orbs.

"You _idjits_!"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Yes. I used the "o" word. Orbs. I swore I would never do it, hate the word with a damned passion, but I couldn't freaking resist. (shudder)

Gotta say this. I've been hearing a lot of people hacking on the new chick in Sam's life. Little premature, don't you think? Jesus Henry Christ, the freaking season hasn't even started yet!

Look, I'm no goody two-shoes. I'm fully prepared to hate the bitch if she works Sam over, but let's give the girl a chance, okay? Be happy for Sam. God knows the dude needs to get laid.


	15. Chapter 15

Chin tucked into his chest, Dean shuffled sleepily into the kitchen and dropped into a seat at the table. He was the last one down. Sam and Bobby were already there, quietly tucking into breakfast.

"Dean!" A bright-eyed and cheery Crystal turned around from the stove, spatula in hand. "Hungry?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dean muttered, staring down at the table and so damned _not_ thinking about the night before.

Crystal sighed with exasperation. "'Ma'am'? What, I slept with Bobby, so now I'm your mother?" She smacked him on the head with the spatula. "Get over it!" With an exasperated shake of her head, she turned back to the stove, pulled a plate piled high with pancakes, bacon, eggs and hashed browns out of the oven and set it in front of him.

Dean stared at it for a long minute. He looked back up at her and then back down at the plate. His stomach growled loudly. With a shrug, he started to eat. "Thanks, Crystal."

"Doofus!" She tossed the spatula into the sink. "Anything else before I sit down?"

"More syrup?" Dean said hopefully.

After getting another bottle from the pantry, Crystal snagged herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table next to Bobby, who was just finishing his meal. He gave her an affectionate pat on the thigh, then turned his attention to the boys. "We heard that club burned in L.A. What happened out there?"

Dean, his mouth full of pancakes and bacon, mumbled something unintelligible about a barbecue.

"The four drained women were the least of it," Sam said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "They'd been recruiting at the club for at least a year. When we went in, there were fourteen vamps, mostly women."

"You get all of 'em?" Bobby asked.

Sam shook his head. "Thirteen. One got away."

Dean swallowed, drank some coffee. "We burned the place down because there was blood everywhere," he said bluntly. "And our fingerprints."

"Sounds like it got a little hairy," Bobby commented.

"A little."

"What are you going to do?" Crystal asked. "About the one that got away?"

"We'll get her," Dean said confidently. "She won't last long. Hasn't got anyone left to show her the ropes."

"Yeah." Sam's grin at Dean was that of a shared secret. "Besides, she kinda sticks out."

"Sticks out? Sticks out how?"

Sam picked up the magazine lying next to his plate and tossed it across the table to Crystal.

"Wondered why you were reading Cosmo." Crystal looked at the cover and her nose wrinkled. "What about it?"

"Who's on the cover?" Sam asked.

"Paris Hilton," she said dismissively. "Idiot carries a dog around in her purse. What about her?"

Dean snorted and coughed, almost choking on his coffee. Wheezing, he took a hacking breath and pointed at the magazine, bursting out laughing. "_Her_!"

Bobby's mouth dropped open. "You're kiddin'!"

Sam's mouth twitched. "Nope."

Bobby covered his eyes with his hand and shook with suppressed laughter.

Crystal looked at Bobby, then back at the magazine. "You don't mean . . . "" Her eyes widened. "Holy shit! _Paris_ _Hilton _is a_ vampire_?"

"Guys!" Sam said sternly. "It's _not_ funny!" But his lips were still twitching and in a moment he was helpless with laughter.

"Oh, man!" Dean wiped his streaming eyes. "I know it's not funny. It's just – sometimes our lives are like some freaking really bad movie and we keep having flashbacks."

Perplexed, Crystal looked questioningly at Bobby, whose laughter had died down to a series of chuckles. He took pity on her confusion. "These two yoyos killed Paris Hilton once before. Chopped her head off."

"Chopped . . ." Crystal repeated, dazed.

"Course, it wasn't _really_ Paris Hilton," Bobby went on. "It was some backwoods god pretending to be Hilton so she could munch on her groupies."

Crystal stared at the three of them, mouth hanging open. Finally, she said, "This is some weird-ass life you got going here."

Sam's laughter died away. He stared at her for a long minute. When he finally spoke, his voice was harsh. "It's a river of crazy, horrific bullshit that would drive any normal person straight to the nuthouse. You're insane to stick around."

After a long, charged silence, Crystal said slowly, "I'm not going to pretend I know anything about this kind of life. I've only seen a little piece of it. But I've seen enough to know I want to know more."

Sam started to protest. Crystal rolled right over him.

"Sam, I can't _not_ do this just because I'm afraid of getting hurt or killed! Ordinary people die every single day! We get cancer, or die in car wrecks or get hit by freaking lightning. Being a civilian isn't a guarantee of a long and happy life."

Now Dean looked at his brother. "She's got a good point there, Sammy."

"Besides, look how I got pulled into this in the first place! Was I out looking for trouble? No, I was working, doing my damned job!" Crystal rushed on. "Shit happens, _life_ happens!"

"Who knows, maybe the ghoul that took over my bosses' life was planning to have one of his buddies take over mine, too. If you two hadn't come in that night, I might be _dead_ right now!" She shook her head in disbelief. "Jesus. Sometimes I still can't believe this shit. Ghouls, vampires, werewolves – even damned _ghosts!_ What the hell is next?"

Bobby hesitated, not wanting to exacerbate an already touchy situation, then inwardly shrugged. Might as well get it all out now. "Got a call while you two were out," he said. "Haunting a couple of towns over."

Frowning, confused by Bobby dumping this into the middle of the conversation, Sam said, "Yeah?"

"Nothing big. A few injuries. Young guy killed, hit by a car. Kept appearing in front of cars, making them run off the road." He nodded at Crystal. "Crystal and me, we took care of it."

"_What_?" Sam's voice was outraged.

Dean, after a quick glance at Bobby, was silent.

"She was fine, did a good job. Stood watch while I dug him up – "

"He wouldn't let _me_ dig," Crystal put in, this issue clearly a sore spot.

" – stood firm when the spirit showed up, didn't run. Held him off while I finished the burn."

"Jesus, Bobby!" Sam's voice was accusatory. "She could've been hurt! Or killed!"

Bobby shrugged, a little warning in his eyes. "Everyone's got to start somewhere."

"The only thing that got hurt was my ass when I fell on it," Crystal said reassuringly to Sam. "Wasn't expecting that much of a kick from the shotgun."

Bobby raised a hand to stop Sam's explosion. "Everyone gets into the life a different way, Sam. Some stay, some don't. Crystal may stick with it. She might head for the hills in a week, or a month, or even a year from now. Thing is, Sam, it's _her_ choice. She ain't a kid or a puppy."

Furious, Sam shoved back abruptly from the table and left the room.


	16. Chapter 16

Oh holy hell, has it really been two weeks since I updated? I am SO SORRY! Time flies when you're reading other people's stuff! Two more chaps and this puppy is done! Already mostly done with the next chapter, then an epilogue and we're outta here!

CHAPTER 16

"You screwed up, Sammy boy!"

Sam walked quickly into the scrapyard, ignoring the devil dancing along beside him.

"Little slut was right. She was minding her own business and you two dipsticks just strolled in and stole her life! Now she's gonna get killed, just like Jess! Just like Madison and Ellen and Jo and – who was that other one? Oh, yeah, your _mother_!"

Eyes determinedly focused away from Dickhead, Sam dug his nails into the palm of his hand. Hard.

"Sorry, bunk buddy, that's not gonna work anymore," Lucifer said gleefully. "Oh hey, maybe if you tear it up some more!" He pointed out a car with smashed windows.

Sam paused, eyed the jagged shards of glass, then strode on, deeper into the yard.

"Yep, you two dragged Crystal into your sinkhole and now she's as good as dead. Might take a while with Bobby watching her ass –" Lucifer squealed with laughter at this little _bon mot_ – "but sooner or later that bitch is _toast_!"

With a despairing moan, Sam broke into a run.

"What, you think you can outrun me? No one can outrun _me_!" Lucifer loped along beside Sam, easily keeping pace. "Sammyboy, all the corpses you keep leaving behind you, they're like a trail of bread crumbs and they lead all the way back to your crib. All the way back to your mother! Hey, do you think she knew what you were? Do you think your Mom knew what she was carrying inside her?"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Sam?"

Dean poked his head into their bedroom. No Sam.

Bathroom. Nope.

Living room. Bobby's study. Kitchen.

Zip. Nada. Zilch.

Even though he knew Sam would rather eat razor wire than go into the panic room, Dean checked there, too.

Bupkus.

No Sam in the whole damned house.

Way past uneasy, Dean went out front and checked the Impala.

_Shit!_

"Sam!" he shouted. "_Sam_!"

Bobby came out of the garage, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. "What the hell is wrong now?"

Dean tried to tamp down his rising panic. "I can't find Sam."

"He's upset," Bobby said soothingly. "He's prob'ly just walking it off."

"Yeah. Maybe." Dean pulled out his cell phone, hesitated. "Wait, where's Crystal?"

"She went into town." There was a slight flush on Bobby's cheeks. "Said she needed a few things."

"Any chance Sam went with her?"

Bobby shook his graying head. "I saw her off. She was alone."

Mouth tight, Dean hit Sam's speed dial.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Sam dropped to a walk, body limp with exhaustion, thigh throbbing from the long run. Fighting to bring his breathing back to normal, he heard his cell phone ring. Knowing that if he didn't answer, his brother would be freaking out even more than he probably already was, Sam wearily flipped it open.

"Yeah."

"_Where the hell are you?"_

"In the yard, taking a walk."

"_Are you okay?"_

Jogging in place next to him, Lucifer clicked his tongue sympathetically. "What's it like having that thermometer up your ass twenty-four hours a day? You _ever_ get any alone time?" He chortled. "Not counting me, of course."

Dean's voice erupted from the phone. "_Sam_!"

"I'm fine, Dean!" Sam glared for a split second at Lucifer, then snapped his gaze away, annoyed at having allowed himself to acknowledge the bastard. "_Fine_! I'm just taking a walk. Can't I have five damned minutes to myself?"

_(silence)_

"_Okay, Sammy. Sorry."_

At the hurt in Dean's voice, Sam sighed. "Dean, I'm just . . . I just need . . . "

"You ever gonna stop running to your big brother?" Lucifer whispered in his ear. "Ever gonna start taking care of yourself?"

"_What? You need what, Sam?"_

"Nothing." Sam tried to ignore Lucifer's hot, sour breath on his neck, the soft chuckle_._ "Look, Dean, I'm sorry. Don't - I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

"Did you ever think about what life might be like for Dean if he didn't have to drag your sorry ass around?" Lucifer sniggered nastily.

"_Sam_?"

"He sounds pretty worried." Lucifer frowned with a shitty imitation of concern. "Maybe we should leave – "

"Will - you - _shut_ - _up_!" With a growl, Sam flung the phone at his tormenter, hitting him in the head. Then he spun away and stomped back in the direction he'd come from.


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

Horror show possibilities ran screaming through Dean's head as he tore through the yard, Bobby close behind him.

_Sam, stumbling through the yard, chased by some horrific internal nightmare. _

_Sam, mind broken, gibbering with fear. _

_Sam, bloody and unconscious, the victim of a monster, a demon or some freaking figment of his own tortured imagination . . ._

Or, none of the above.

Sam, sitting calmly on the hood of an old Mercury with a scrunched top and shattered windows.

"Sammy?" Dean said warily as they approached. "You okay?"

Sam shrugged and then looked at Bobby, a little embarrassed. "Sorry about earlier."

"Don't worry about it," Bobby answered, trying to hide his impatience. Now he knew Sam was okay, he really, _really_ wanted to get back to work. He and Crystal were planning on a mid-afternoon "nap" when she got back from town. If he didn't finish up changing out the engine on Hammersmith's pick-up _quick_, he could kiss his afternoon nookie good-bye.

"Listen," he said firmly. "I'm headin' back to the garage. Me and Crystal, we're, uh - well, I got work to do!"

"Go ahead, Bobby," Dean said, eyes intent on Sam. "We're fine."

As the older man turned to leave, Sam said, "No, Bobby, wait – " He hesitated, then said in a rush, "You know I've got no problem with you and Crystal, right?"

"Oh hell, boy, _I_ knew you weren't mad about that. Crystal told me there wasn't anything between the three of you." Bobby grinned as Dean shifted uncomfortably. "Nothing _serious_," he clarified. "You two just had a little, um - " he tried to choose his word carefully – "_shock_ last night."

"Whoa, Bobby," Dean interrupted, starting to look a little panicked. "No need to talk about that. We're good. Right, Sam?"

"Yeah, we're good!" Sam's dark head nodded in fervent agreement.

"Okay, then," Bobby said, chuckling inside. "Are we done here?"

"Yeah, sure, Bobby." Relieved, Dean nudged his brother. "I think we can hold off on the next crisis for an hour or two, right, Sammy?"

Sam nodded, gnawing nervously on his lip. Watching as Bobby started to walk away, he said abruptly, "Hey, Bobby?"

Exasperated, Bobby turned back. He had work to do. _Work_!

"_What_?"

"Bobby - don't let protecting her get _you_ killed."

Startled, and maybe a little insulted, Bobby started to spit out a stock reply - something along the lines of 'I've been killing monsters since before you two idjits were sperm in your daddy's dick' - then he took note of the 'not fucking kidding' expression on Sam's face, that expression mirrored on Dean's face, and the older man simply nodded.

"I'll do my best."

Once he was safely out of earshot, Sam said softly, "Think they'll be okay?"

"You kidding? They'll be fine," Dean said positively. "Nothing can kill that old man." He nudged Sam again. "So, you ready to get back on the road, hunt down our wayward vamp?"

"Did you get a line on her?"

"New York City. At least, that's what Google says. Anybody's guess as to how long she stays there."

"She's not the brightest bulb on the tree. I'm betting she'll want to stay on familiar ground." Sam shrugged. "Let's give it a shot. She's our damned mess. We have to clean it up."

"Cool!" Dean beamed happily. "Been a while since we've been to The Big Apple. Maybe we can hit the library while we're there. That big one with the lions in front you're always talking about."

"And the fact you hooked up with that hot librarian last time we were there has nothing to do with it?"

"Not a damned thing! Come on, let's get packed up. We'll hit the road first thing in the morning."

"No, let's leave tonight," Sam said, with something in his voice that sounded a lot like fear. "Dude – Bobby's room is right down the hall from ours. I don't want _that_ soundtrack in my head! Satan, okay, but not _that!_"

"Oh _hell_ no!" Dean paled. "We are on the road _tonight._"

"Good. I mean, I'm glad for them, but that would be just, just - "

"I know. Kind of like hearing _Dad_ have sex."

"Thanks, Dean. Thanks for that!" Sam snapped snarkily. He slid hastily down from the hood of the Mercury. "Let's go – oh _crap_! My phone!"

"You lose it?"

"Somewhere over there." Sam nodded further into the yard, shrugged. "I threw it at Lucifer."

Dean's mouth opened, closed. Then, "Did you hit him?"

"Right in the head," Sam admitted, almost smiling at the memory of the surprised look on Satan's face.

"Good job, Sammy." Dean snorted with laughter. As Sam started to move past him, Dean's eyes dropped down and he sucked in a startled breath. "Sam?"

_Oh, shit_. "Dean, I – "

"What the hell is _that_?"

"Dean, don't yell, I'm okay!" Sighing, Sam held out his hand, bandaged and bloody.

"Damn it, what did you do?" A scowl on his handsome face, Dean carefully unwrapped Sam's hand and examined the jagged double-slash that ran across the palm. Not too deep, but deep enough. Yeah, fucking deep enough. "Damn it, Sam!"

Sam didn't answer. He didn't need to. His expression said it very clearly.

_Yeah, Dean, I know, but I had to. _

Glancing down at the ground, Dean saw a large piece of jagged, bloody glass, kicked halfway under the car.

_Oh, Sammy._

"It's okay, kiddo." With great care, his own hands shaking slightly, Dean re-wrapped Sam's hand. "We gotta be sure we disinfect this before we stitch it up," he said gently. "Probably all kinds of crap on that glass."

Sam nodded, relaxing a little, and they headed into the yard to find Sam's killer phone.


	18. Chapter 18 Epilogue

PARIS HILTON PRESUMED DEAD

AFTER TRAGIC FIRE AT SEA

BFFS MOURN

Crystal's lips twitched. She tried not to laugh but a snorting giggle escaped her. "What a bunch of goobers." She tossed the offending paper to the floor and looked around the room for something else to distract her.

Daytime television? And no cable. Rats.

Resigned, and not very hopeful, she turned on the boob tube and started flipping through channels. She'd almost decided to risk a few brain cells on Jerry Springer when she heard the front door open and slam. "Oh, thank God. In here, Bobby!"

Bobby came into the study and tossed the mail onto his desk. "Hey, you. How's the arm?"

Crystal looked down at her sprained and be-slinged arm and made a face. "Oh, it's fine. My own stupid fault for not getting out of the way when you told me to."

Bobby shrugged, dropping down on the couch beside her. "It's not every day you see a five-year-old munching on his teacher's brains."

Crystal grimaced in distaste. "Eewww! Don't _say_ that! Jesus, I can _still_ see the little muncher! And the smell! _Ish_!"

"Yeah, well, just remember, all it takes is one bite and you'll be one of the munchers yourself. I don't want to have to chop off your pretty little head."

"Me either." She shuddered. "There's no cure?"

Bobby shook his head with certainty. "None."

"What about a werewolf bite?"

"Nope."

"Vampire?"

"There is, but it's a son-of-a-bitch. And it only works if you haven't drunk human blood."

"I'll keep that in mind." She leaned against him, chewing things over. "You know the thing I can't quite get my head around? Hell. I mean – _Hell_. I can swallow werewolves and vamps and zombies – it's like a Monster Movie Matinee. But Hell? _Hell_ is real_."_

"Hell is pretty damned real, all right. And purgatory. And just about every other damned thing you can think of." He hesitated, reluctant to say what he knew absolutely _had_ to be said.

"Crys, how do you feel about tattoos?"

"Tattoos?" Crystal frowned. "Why?"

"Lot of women have them, noticed you don't."

She studied him, puzzled. "I don't have anything against them. I just never saw anything I'd want to have on my body for the rest of my life."

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "So no roses or barbed wire bracelets?"

She snickered. "Not likely. Why?"

He nudged her. "Sit up a minute."

Crystal did so, shifting over to give Bobby a little space. When he started to unbutton his shirt, her lips quirked in a wicked little half-smile. "Oh, _yeah, _baby."

Bobby grinned back at her teasingly, then yanked down the top of his undershirt to reveal the tattoo on his chest, just below his shoulder.

Crystal reached out, traced a finger over it. She'd known he had a tat. She'd seen it in bed, and knew it was a match to what both Sam and Dean wore. "What does it mean?"

"It's for protection against demonic possession."

"_Possession_?" The color drained from Crystal's face. "Like in 'The Exorcist'? _Demons_?"

Bobby nodded, eyes grave. "It happens. More than you might think. A _lot_ more."

"_Shit_." Crystal gulped. "Wow." She laughed a little shakily, then something really horrible occurred to her and she said, voice quavering, "If Hell is real, and demons - then - Satan?"

Bobby nodded.

"_Oh_." Eyes huge, Crystal crawled into his lap and huddled there, trembling.

Bobby stroked her hair soothingly. "It's okay, baby. He don't mess with us mortals much." _Much._

They sat still, holding on to each other for a long while.

"Bobby," Crystal asked at length. "Has it ever – has it ever happened to _you_?"

Bobby's mouth tightened. "Once."

"_Before_ you got the tattoo."

He nodded shortly.

"And – you think _I_ should get one." She rested a hand on his tattoo.

"There are charms you can carry, but there's no guarantee they'll work. This – " he laid his hand over hers - "this tat could save your life."

She sighed unhappily. "It's gonna hurt like a _bitch_."

"That's a _hunter's_ life, Crys."

"Sucks," she muttered darkly into his chest and he chuckled, kissing the top of her head lightly.

"So what do you think?"

"About the tattoo?"

"Uh huh."

She tilted her head back and met his eyes, a resolute look on her face. "I think the tattoo is a damned good idea. I am absolutely _not_ going to channel Linda Blair. I _hate_ pea soup and I like my head facing front!"

Bobby chuckled. "Good. I know a guy in Sioux Falls. He does good work. He'll take care of you."

Pleased, he bent his head and kissed her.

She kissed back willingly, happily, then another thought occurred to her. "Bobby, wait, what about God? If there's a Satan, is there a God, too?"

He nodded and she sighed in relief. "That's good."

Bobby made no comment, just covered her lips with his own with a small sound of contentment.

Crystal echoed the sound and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I wanted you the minute I heard your voice on the phone," she murmured huskily into his mouth. "All mad and snarly and gravelley." She nuzzled into his neck, nipped his ear. "You're a big, cuddly bear, Bobby Singer. I _like_ big cuddly bears."

She ran her tongue teasingly across his lips and grinned when he shivered. "Not to mention you're smart as hell and you kick major monster ass. And don't even get me _started_ on the insanely good sex."

The sling was starting to get on her last damned nerve. Crystal pulled it off impatiently and flung it across the room.

"Crys . . . "

"Oh, fuck the sling, Bear! Just - "

Growling, Bobby grabbed her and she melted happily into him.

After a time they pulled apart, both gasping for breath.

"Upstairs?" Bobby suggested hoarsely.

"Upstairs!"

"First one there gets to be on top!"

Crystal giggled. "Hubba hubba!" And she bolted for the stairs, Bobby close behind her.

END

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

TA DAH!

OMG, it's freaking over!

This was such a lot of fun to write! Thank you, EVERYONE, for your amazing reviews and for sticking with me through this (wait for it) "madcap romp"'! Ha ha! Yeah, I know, it got serious a couple of times, but like I said, blame freaking Sam! I know I do. I just can NOT write Sam without breaking out into angst once in a while.

For those who care, Crystal will be making a comeback later on. Not sure when, got a couple other things on the burner. Anyway, if you'd like to make a suggestion as to what you'd like to happen to our intrepid new hunter when she next appears, please feel free to shoot me a line. Oh, holy _crap_, just got an idea. No, no, can't say what it is just now, have to check with someone, get permission to steal an idea. Oh _boy_, if she says yes, it'll be hella fun!

Talk to you all later. Again, mucho thanks! It's been a blast!


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